


Scorch Shot

by deathtothecrows



Series: Team Fortress Oneshots [2]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Burning, Canon-Typical Violence, Graphic Description, Headcanon, Psychological Trauma, Temporary Character Death, graphic description of scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-14 14:31:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18950035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathtothecrows/pseuds/deathtothecrows
Summary: A Spy often feels more pain than he lets on.





	Scorch Shot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Doktor_Medic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Doktor_Medic/gifts).



> This is kinda a vent fic so don't take it personally and just enjoy it please. Any German or French words will have their meanings at the end of chapter notes.

“We have taken the enemy intelligence.”

Spy smiled at the sound of the Administrator in his ear and mentally congratulated himself on the victory that was the blue case in his hand, stuffed chock full of enemy secrets, hopefully ones that they could use in battle. He supposed it wasn’t much of a victory, considering the enemy team was missing a member due to their engineer needing to attend a family funeral, but he’d take what he could get, and what he could get was a beautiful piece of enemy intel. 

Feeling elated, he walked quickly to the exit, letting his feet be a little bit louder, feeling his heart beat a little bit faster. And there was a click, and he felt his demise come before his mind could process what he had heard. He screamed in pain but held on to the briefcase as he ran, hearing the muffled words of a pyro behind him. It hurt so bad, his body fought him and the tears trying to escape his eyes only turned into steam. 

He rounded the corner, could see the water only meters away, he was suffocating breaking, screaming “FIRE”. He felt the briefcase fall from his fingers, felt his body follow suit. Heard the Administrator’s voice, muffled in his ear. 

And then nothing.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Respawn itches like hell. Your entire body is being put back together, all the little molecules and pieces of you being remade, reshaped, rebuilt. It’s hot and itchy for a good ten second after the machine does its work. 

So why was Spy still feeling its effects?

The left side of his face and body were burning and itching fiercely, as if a hundred fire ants were crawling across his skin. It felt like a bad sunburn and it didn’t help that his heavy three piece suit was rubbing his skin in all the wrong places. He asked Medic to heal him and that itchy feeling calmed down significantly for the rest of the work day, subsiding to only a dull throbbing in the back of his mind. But by the time dinner rolled around it was back, and worse than before. Searing, itching skin that ached when he breathed, and as he stumbled into the locker room he could feel everyone’s eyes on him. 

“Hey uh, you alright there Spy?” Scout’s voice echoed in Spy’s head, far too loud but somehow it seemed far away. He felt a hand on his left shoulder and the pain flared, burning him at the touch. Spy cried out in pain, startling the young man’s hand off of him. He took a few ragged breaths, closing his eyes to steady his heart rate.   
“I… am fine, thank you. I just need to rest.” 

He heard the clicking of Medic’s boots on the tile, echoing through the quiet room and piercing his skull. Saw those sharp toed black boots stop next to his, felt a hand on his shoulder, the right one this time. A needle punctured his arm and he tried to struggle, but his body felt weak, so weak. The voices of the others swarmed his mind. The voice of himself screaming for them to go away. Then everything was muffled and silent again. This time he didn’t die. If he had at least it wouldn’t have hurt so much. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first thing Spy heard when he woke up was the buzzing of fluorescent lights. The first thing he smelled was blood and bleach. The first thing he felt? His eyelids and cold bare skin. He couldn’t feel anything else. He slammed his eyes open to look around, nose flaring, eyes darting back and forth. 

“Shhhh, calm yourself Spy you look like a frightened Kind who’s lost his Mutter,” A thick German accent permeated the air and fortunately the voice was a familiar one. 

“What is going on, why can’t I move?” Spy fumbled over the words, his mouth feeling dry and senseless. 

“Leftovers from what was in that needle you hated so much! It was by my own design and I am quite proud of it. I even used one of Sniper’s frogs’ poison to make it!” Medic came in to view on the left side of Spy’s peripheral vision. Gloves and mask on, the Quick Fix in hand. A look of giddy excitement in his dark blue eyes. “As for what’s going on? Well it seems Respawn has left you with quite the nasty burn so I had to fix it up quite a bit. Some of your mask had actually fused with your skull, so of course I had to graft some silverfish skin onto the side of your face. In a couple hours I’ll be able to take it off fortunately but please be aware that I did have to take your mask off in order to perform life saving surgery and that you would have died otherwise. I am sorry about that.”

Medic sounded surprisingly genuine at that, his voice dropping off in sincere apology as he trailed away from the last sentence he’d spoken. Spy’s eyes widened even further and he tried to lift his hands to his face, only succeeding in twitching his fingers ever so slightly. “You WHAT! Put it back on NOW, NOW, NOW. Please…”

Spy’s voice trailed off as he began to sob quietly, fear in his eyes, and anger too, but not at Medic. The man had kept him alive after all, or so he said. And from what Spy knew of the wild German man he was inclined to believe him. Medic would never lie about any medical achievements he might accomplish.

“You didn’t let anybody else see my face, did you?” Spy’s voice trembled, his throat clogged with congestion already.

“Nein, I might be a monster, but I would never do such a thing,” Medic set down the Quick Fix under the operating table that Spy was laying on before grabbing a small piece of red cloth from a small table next to Spy’s head, “It will likely be incredibly painful to wear it, but I do have one of your extra masks here with me if you want to wear it. I had Scout fetch it for me while your leg was being operated on.” 

Spy attempted to nod before remembering he couldn’t, “Yes, merci.”

Medic nodded and lifted Spy’s head from the table, pulling the mask on as slowly and gently as he could. Despite his entire body being numb, Spy could still feel burning pain from the way the mask scratched against his scalp. With some difficulty Medic managed to get the mask on and properly fitted onto Spy’s face. He gently laid his head back down on the table and grabbed the Quick Fix from underneath the table. “Herr Spy?”

“Hmm?” Spy grunted slightly, a dull throbbing flowing through his skull now that the mask was back on. 

“I’ll be back in two hours, which is when dinner is. You should be able to move and feel again by then but I trust that when your body wakes up it will not be pleasant for you. Try to get some rest until then Bitte.” 

And with that Medic turned on his heel and left, boots clicking across the linoleum floor at a brisk pace before he pushed through the lockable double doors into the hallway, leaving Spy alone in the cold and empty room. Sleep soon consumed him, exhaustion from an overworked, overhealed body taking his mind into darkness. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Spy woke, it was to the worst headache he had ever experienced before. His back ached from the flat metal he laid on and his head throbbed from the harsh lights above. He heard Medic humming to his left and on impulse tried to turn his head to look at him. He was met with sharp pain that ran from the top of the left side of his head all the way down his shoulder and back. 

“MERDE!” Spy shouted, teeth clenching from shock. It’s not that it truly hurt, he’d felt far worse, but it came as quite the surprise. 

“Ah I wouldn’t move too much if I were you Spy, I still need to finish healing up your scars and removing the silverfish skin. Stay still for a moment, if you would. I need to grab my Medigun and scalpels,” Medic paused for a moment, looking back at the man laying riged on the metal table in the middle of his workspace, “I will need you to take your mask off for part of this, I am very, very sorry.”

Spy growled and felt his heartbeat quicken in his chest. “Do you absolutely have to? Can’t you just leave it on and lift part of it up?”

Medic shook his head, wheeling a small table covered in surgical tools next to Spy’s head. “I’m afraid not Herr Spy, the damage is quite extensive and I need full access to your cranium in order to make sure everything is healing as it should. If you want I can put you under for the procedure?”

“Non, I need to be awake for this. If I must have my mask off I want to be awake for it.”

Medic nodded and grabbed his Medigun from underneath the operating table. He set it on a custom stand the Engineer had made for him and flicked the switch, letting the healing vapors wash over Spy’s rigid body. He grabbed a pair of red surgical gloves from his tool table and slid them over his hands with a certain amount of flair that was likely attributed to a secondary school drama class.

Spy sighed at the tingling numbness brought on by the overheal his body was experiencing, there was really nothing like it, like just waking up after a satisfying two hour nap. The itching pain on the side of his face had subsided but he was still wary of moving, opting instead to watch Medic’s movements out of the corner of his eye. “How long will this take?”

“Not too long, ten minutes at most maybe. The Medigun certainly helps the healing process, ja?”

“Oui, it most certainly does.”

“Alright Herr Spy, let us get to work. Do you want to start with the head and get it over with? Or would you rather do it last?”

“First,” Spy blurted, eyes wide, “Let us get this over with s'il vous plaît. ”

“Take off the mask then, unless I should do it for you?” 

“ Non , I will do it.”

Spy’s hands shook as he reached up to the line of fabric on his throat. His left hand itched terribly but he ignored it, his only thought being on the mask that kept him safe. Carefully he peeled back the edges of the mask, hissing where it made contact with the prickling skin that burned the left side of his face. Medic thankfully averted his eyes as best he could, only looking at the wounds themselves and not into Spy’s eyes. 

Once the mask was off Medic worked quickly, using a scalpel to cut away the grafted silverfish skin, exposing soft pink flesh beneath it that healed quickly. The Medigun prevented bleeding from the cuts so the only thing Spy could feel was an uncomfortable prickling sensation. Eventually the mask was allowed back on Spy’s hands moving quickly now that it wasn’t nearly as painful to do so. Medic was quiet as he worked on the rest of Spy’s body, removing fish skin to reveal the newly grown skin beneath, soft and tender to the touch. 

After about fourteen minutes of Medic’s practiced hands working down most of the length of Spy’s body they were done. Medic removed his gloves and stood, switching off the Medigun as he did so. “Well  Herr Spy, you are not the first person on our team to be left with Respawn scars but yours will be by far the worst. I’m sorry to say that they will likely never fully heal and I don’t have an answer as to why this happened in the first place. Hopefully it’s something that the Engineer will be able to fix.”

Spy nodded, sitting up slowly on the cold metal table, his shoulders and back aching from prolonged contact with the unforgiving surface. “ Merci Medic, I owe you.”

“Yes you do,” Medic grinned, his smile looking just  _ slightly _ ominous, “Your clothes are beside you on the ground, I’ll be waiting outside.”

Spy dressed himself as quickly as he could, the tender new skin on his side feeling like a sore bruise whenever it made contact with cloth. It was irritating but not unbearable. He double checked that his mask was fitted properly before opening the double doors that Medic had disappeared through.

“I had  Herr Engineer bring dinner to your room although it might be cold by now,” Medic shoved two red capsules into Spy’s hand, “Take these after you eat, they should help with scarring, alright?”

Spy only nodded, which was enough for Medic to sweep back into his workplace with a curt “ Gute Nacht .”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spy had thankfully managed to avoid his teammates on the trek back to his room and frowned to find that the lock to his door had been busted open. He really should teach Scout how to lockpick because at least he wouldn’t have to buy a new lock every time the boy barged into his room. With a sigh, Spy took the chair from his writing desk and placed it beneath the door so that no one could get it, not easily anyway. 

He walked slowly to the full length mirror that hung upon the far wall, next to his wood paneled closet. Staring at his reflection he felt a feeling he couldn’t quite place, it roiled in his gut. He placed a hand over his stomach and looked into the eyes of his reflection. A pale grey-blue, like a storm, the bags under his eyes showing the results of sleeping on a hard metal surface. 

He shrugged off his suit jacket and hung it in the closet. Next came his vest and tie, then his belt. He peeled off his leather gloves and let them drop to the floor. A tattoo of a rose curled around the ring finger of his left hand, in lieu of an actual ring. He undid the top button of his collar, and took a shaky breath. Already he could see discolored pink skin flaring across his collarbone. 

With shaking fingers he undid his shirt slowly, fumbling with the small buttons often in his anxiety. The smooth fabric fell from his shoulders and on to the floor carelessly. He almost choked when he saw them. Soft pink scars blazed a trail across his chest and onto his back. The edges were a tan brownish color and were hard to the touch. He ran his fingers across those hard spots but couldn't feel his own fingers there, it was as if the nerves had been burned away.

With growing apprehension undid the button on his pants, letting them drop to the ground around his ankles before stepping out of them and kicking them back. He stood there in his socks and underwear and mask and the roiling feeling in his gut grew stronger. It clawed at his insides but he pushed the thought of it away, proceeding to trace his eyes down his leg. The scars continued from his torso down his leg, almost completely covering the skin there in those harsh pinkish scars. 

Spy ran his eyes slowly back up the figure in the mirror, taking in the foreign entity that was supposedly himself, until eventually they reached his face. He glanced behind him quickly to make sure the chair was still under the door, straining his ears to know if anyone was coming down the hall. Once satisfied that he would not be disturbed he turned back to the mirror.

He drew his shaking hands up to the cloth around his neck tugging at it gently, peeling it slowly overhead. He pulled it up up, higher and higher, until eventually his hair fell free and the mask was gone. 

And he was hideous.

His slightly overgrown hair was dirty blond and curly but damp with sweat. Where it once had been on the left side of his face was now a singed empty plane. All the hair on the left side of his head had been burned away, leaving him looking like a plucked chicken. Pieces of red fabric we're stuck in the pus colored scabs around the outskirts of the scars, pieces of the mask that Medic hadn't been able to remove. His ear was a charred husk, barely retaining its shape. He saw his hand reach up to touch the side of his face but could barely feel his fingers there. The feeling in his gut grew. 

Spy fell to the floor soundlessly, his knees buckling, loosing their strength. For the second time that day he cried, as the feeling in his gut finally spilled out of his tear ducts. 

He was ugly, and it was his own damn fault.

**Author's Note:**

> German  
> \- Kind: child  
> \- Mutter: mother  
> \- Nein: no  
> \- Herr: sir or mister  
> \- Ja: yes  
> \- Gute Nacht: good night  
> \- Bitte: please/pardon/excuse me/if you would
> 
> French  
> \- Merci: thank you  
> \- Merde: shit  
> \- Non: no  
> \- Oui: yes  
> \- S'il vous plaît: please  
> \-----------------------------------  
> the fact about silverfish skin helping with burn wounds is true and very fascinating
> 
> this fic is based upon my own experiences with self worth and is in no way saying that people with scars of any kind are ugly, please don't take it that way
> 
> special shoutout to my friend Baba for being the best writing mate a guy could ever ask for <3
> 
> please leave kudos and comments to let me know how I did!


End file.
